As I've said on other channels, I entered this year's, which was also the first. It works like this: you sign up, and then you're given a title, a premise, a line you have to include and 48hrs to write, edit and shoot yourself telling the story. Unlike the film challenge, it doesn't need a team. You have 6 minutes.

Here is what I was emailed at 1pm on the Saturday:

Title: FAIL TO GAINLine: I don't want him to know. Do you think we can do it without him finding out?Theme: People can only store 15 memories at one time - all other memories are erased

I told the first draft rather than wrote it, pulling it out of the air in the shadow of a watertower that looks like a castle, surrounded by vivid pink cherry blossom and a sky filled with cotton candy clouds. Then I trapped it on a screen, in words, and I loved it, made sure it was healthy. Then let it go, like any storybird.

I never heard a thing back, something that's more common than most would let on, but, nonetheless, the story itself is something I am proud of. So here it is, and unedited.

It takes a little under 8 minutes if you read it out loud; seven and a half if you can push past the tremors of your voice, as the loss buried in it strokes you with thorns.

Hi everyone, for those who couldn't make it to any gatherings for poannie on Weds - or even if you could and you could use another space - the downstairs of the Royal George is booked on Thurs 29th December from 6pm-midnight. There's a range of drinks and food and also some board games, and for those who haven't been, the pub has a 'safe' vibe.

Peace, my heart, let the time for the parting be sweet.Let it not be a death but completeness.Let love melt into memory and pain into songs.Let the flight through the sky end in the folding of the wings over the nest.Let the last touch of your hands be gentle like the flower of the night.Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a moment, and say your last words in silence.I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way.

I've gone through my friends list and done some pruning - mostly people who are only presenting a negative influence on my life, and/or who respond negatively to anything positive I state, and who won't create a discourse to address or fix this.

I'm a fair bit broken mentally right now, and it's been exacerbated by these actions amongst others. I'm having to deal with the consequences of selfishness, deceit, and bitchiness, both directly and indirectly. I've also had to accept dealing with the loss of a friendship I held very dearly for a long time due to some negative responses, and through no fault of my own other than just being me.

I'm glad that there's only a few people who have given a negative influence, but a few is still too many. Those who are opening a discourse towards problems or hurt - thank you. I will respond when I can. Those who haven't - there's no excuse to be a dick, and you have been to either me or someone I love. I don't need or want that in my life. I cannot influence the way you treat who I care about, but I can influence the way you treat me.

I'm also taking a break from online participation aside from this post for a while, as tbh it feels like I'm just shouting into the void, so I'm going to stop and instead work out where to use best what few spoons I have.

Email from the local Sergeant: it began, "This is an ongoing problem that [Council] is taking very seriously." I have to say, I laughed when I read that :-(

It turns out that the large majority of the rough sleepers are not UK born or have British citizenship, and are in fact Eastern European. The police are aware, as are the UK Border Agency, and have been visiting over the last few weeks to serve paperwork informing them of appointments for deportation as they've breached immigration rules. "I have little doubt that most will fail to attend appointments and as such will be circulated as being liable for arrest... We will continue to come down and move people on but we are more than aware that they return later in the day. Please call us on our team mobile [with number here] and we will come straight down."

So, my boss' suspicions were right. Looks like they've deliberately moved here, on the basis that even begging will get them more cash than a job would in their native countries. Over the next few weeks they're going to be arrested and sent back.

I would think of her as a bit of a right winger, were it not for that she's from Eastern Europe herself.

It certainly doesn't paint a good picture for the large majority of immigrants here. It's furthered by a story from someone in my family, who works with am Eastern European man; he's been awarded a 4 bedroom house by the local council, in which his family lives... for 3 months a year. Rest of the time, they're in their home country. He also works 12 hours a week, so eligible for benefits. And it's all legal. My sister is now facing raising a very large family in a 3 room bungalow - no, not three bedroom, three room - which is fitted for disabled people. It could go to someone else, but it can't right now because they have nowhere else to go. Rent prices are rising, and the allowance for housing benefit is falling. Neither she nor her partner can't or won't play the system: twins are on the way, but they don't count until they're a year old. It just doesn't make sense to me.

Thing is, I still have nothing against people who are not born here, but want to live here. My first, enduring and continuing experience of immigrants is that of positivity, learning and affection. I have been introduced to mannerisms, music, food and cultures that when combined form a picture of differing decency, respect and often fun. I am proud that my current partner is an immigrant, someone who is not British by birth, but chose to be by working hard. I am proud that I live and work with and love people who make the most of their choices and opportunities. I am proud that every single one of my colleagues is from Eastern Europe.

To these people, difference is what makes them and the country I am born in and that they live in such a great place. Their skills, intelligence, and determination to make their life choices work is something that inspires. They make me laugh, and teach me. I see nothing wrong in this.

It's just the minorities we have here, on old sofas and mattresses, plastic and cardboard; they're being shifted back to their own country. This chapter has an ending. And what else can we do? How else could it end?

Yesterday I call our community management team, who looks after the particular segment of the borough. As I look for the right number on their website, they proudly boast they spray 1.7 million square metres of weeds, and plant 50,000 bulbs, each year. I dial the number in a dim frame of mind, and shamefully, pleasantly surprised by the response.

"Well, you've come through to the right place. I'll chat with my colleagues, and our local enforcement officer, and try and get them moved. Here's my contact details," - and he gives me direct line, email, mobile. "You should get a call by the end of today with an update."

"Thank you! Any help would be welcome."

Today I call to get the catch up I was promised. "What do you mean?" says a different voice.

"We have," I reply, softly. Numerous times. They've said unless the homeless go directly to them, they can't help, and to try elsewhere. She overrides me.

"You want their direct line?"

I give in. "Yes, please."

"You need to call [council's main switchboard], and ask for the Homeless Team. Goodbye." And then she hangs up.

I'm asked by my boss to call the police instead: "So what if I seem like a cold bitch? I've worked hard to get here. You worked hard to get here. These people, they don't want to. They don't want help." But she's not cold, just angry at feeling helpless. I know she's right. I've been there. She's offered jobs to one or two of the homeless here in the past, but gave up when the ones she approached refused to even hand in a CV, or turn up as they promised.

So I've called the police twice today, including just now, and each time it's gone straight to an answerphone, where a young guy says hesitantly, "The team are off duty. We're back on duty on Friday... 6th August... from 2pm."

People ask me why I was so stubborn when it came to trying to help someone I loved stay in a place even when they hurt me, and, well, this is exactly why. The level of bureaucracy, of mediocrity, is stunning. They are overworked, and not given enough funds. They even say on their website that the large majority of people who come to them will not be offered social housing; you need 800 points and a 5 year wait for a 2 bedroom house. I'm not even homeless, or have the capacity to care about the individuals sleeping and shitting outside where I work past a mass of bodies who need somewhere to go, and I've been bounced between three separate agencies - charity, the police force, and the council - and five subdivisions of these in total.

The level of negative treatment I received from some people also in trouble, in the past, is actually approaching bearable compared to the lack of care and sheer amount of suck I am currently experiencing. At least Things Were Being Done (though having said that I wouldn't tolerate the level of treatment I received from anyone ever again).

I'm out of ideas, past chip, chip away. It feels like I'm only wearing myself down.

I'm reading a lot of, well, wank about some of the Eastercon workshops.

I'm not going to wade in to the biggest source, because I don't have the energy, but I will say this, and this is why it's public:

Eastercon (and organisers), I am extremely glad you have such a wide range of workshops, especially the bondage. Thanks to those, I met a fantastic man, discovered it was okay to love myself and unusual things, and felt attractive for the first time in my life.

At this Eastercon, at the same hotel, I'll be celebrating two years of an incredible, affectionate, healthy, moving and heart-opening partnership that has resulted directly from the bondage workshops.

Eastercon, you rock. I am looking forward to opening up, and healing, and loving more thanks to you, and the people who put so much effort into making you amazing.